


Less Conversation, More Action Please

by aurics



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Animals, Canon Related, Fluff, Kittens, M/M, Pet Store, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-04-12 02:14:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4461455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aurics/pseuds/aurics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kenma is not at all pleased with having to share his shift at the pet store with a new employee - especially if said employee insists on trying to get to know him better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Less Conversation, More Action Please

**Author's Note:**

> Thought process for this fic went pretty much like this: "Kuroken... and animals... maybe pet shop. yeah. That sounds good." Also the title is misleading because this fic is PG as heck lmao.

 

 

Some people may find it a bit of a concern that Kenma prefers the company of animals over those of humans’ — and Kenma is fully aware of this, so he makes an effort not to hold his customary 'conversations' in the presence of customers. Which isn’t hard, considering the pet store is quiet on most weekdays. Business is slow, but the owner Ukai-san seems to be unperturbed by it, not even asking Kenma to do horrifically cheesy promotional campaigns to attract potential pet owners. And Kenma, for one, is not complaining.

It’s rather therapeutic being able to voice out his dilemmas without constant interruptions and unnecessary inputs, the only responses being the occasional purrs of contentment from satisfied kittens (Kenma has a habit of stroking their ears while he’s pouring his heart out) or the sleepy growls of drained-out puppies. He’s really not the type to dwell over teenage adversities for a prolonged period of time. Most of his troubles would either resolve themselves or just naturally abate anyway, and he knows from experience that ‘real life people’ tend to blow trifling matters up into gargantuan sizes. Animals, on the other hand, keep the minor quandary in check while they groom themselves and nap in wait for their next scheduled meal. Their simple lives make them the perfect companions for Kenma to channel any and all concerns.

All in all, it’s a blessing that Kenma’s able to enjoy his work life, even leading him to insist on taking full shifts during his spring break. What better way to spend his free time than sitting behind the cash register leveling up on his latest game and cuddling cats, giving dogs a bath or feeding hamsters to top the day off? Kenma likes this set-up, and wishes it would never change. 

Unfortunately for him, things rarely go his way.

 

-

 

It's a typical sluggish Tuesday afternoon, so it's no surprise that the store has only seen five customers in total despite it being spring break. Kenma's slumped on the usual old couch behind the cash register, bending down so that only the top of his dark roots is showing through the display window. He hasn’t progressed even a single level from his video game even after having pored over it since the start of his shift. Four and a half hours ago. He wonders if he’s losing his mojo already.

Standing up to stretch his aching limbs, Kenma lets his eyes roam the room. The big glass window displays across from where he’s manning the cash register is fairly quiet, occupied by the bigger and older dogs who prefer spending their days sleeping or pacing around in their spacious boxes. Sometimes, when they get more restless than Kenma likes, he takes two or three for a quick walk. It really does break his heart to see them so contained all the time. The wall next to these glass windows are cages of birds whose songs are, by now, Kenma’s default background music most of the time. The aquariums housing an array of decorative fish line the wall to the right, and below them are some of Kenma’s favourite cages for the rabbits and hamsters, complete with dainty little toys to keep them busy. And right beside Kenma is another set-up similar to that of the dogs’, though with more space, to keep two litters of kittens comfortable and several puppies besides. 

All in all, it is a crowded place, though it is kept clean and orderly for the sake of both the pets and Kenma himself. But animal noises aside, the store can appear a little muted, maybe even stagnant. 

He’s about to restart the entire stage of his game when the door opens with a small chime of the overhead bell. In a hurry, Kenma quickly turns his console off, a practiced greeting ready on the tip of his tongue when he looks up to find his employer standing in front of him.

“Hey, kid,” Ukai-kun, as Kenma calls him, waves half-heartedly, and he has thankfully forgone the cigarette usually hanging between his lips this time.

“Hello. Unusual of you to drop by here."

The sound of the puppies yelping behind the glass windows piques Ukai’s interest, slowly turning in his spot to look around. “Yeah, well. My old man’s been nagging me about taking care of this place. Apparently I’ve got to make some changes around here."

When Ukai shows no signs of continuing, Kenma starts cautiously: “What… kind of change?"

“He wants me to hire another staff."

It takes all of Kenma’s self-control not to break out into a smile. The idea’s a little ridiculous, but he’s not about to voice that out loud. “Why?” he asks instead.

“My question exactly. I mean, you’re not having any trouble keeping the shop under control, are you?” Kenma shakes his head in response. The work is never gets out of hand, after all. “If I were to be honest with you, I don’t see what the use of that is other than added expenses. But my old man's word is law so might as well go ahead and do it."

Kenma bites his lip. It sounds a little selfish, but he’s reluctant to share his private time of peace and quiet with an unfamiliar presence. He doesn’t need any more ears listening to his whining, and he certainly can’t imagine anyone else being able to placate the needy residents of the store.

“Are you sure it’s absolutely necessary? If you can convince him that I’m managing quite well by myself —"

“I tried that, but nothing goes past that head of his.” Placing a stack of paper he pulls up seemingly out of nowhere, Ukai dumps the entire thing in front of Kenma. “After your shift ends, start putting these up in places — where it doesn’t really matter."

Kenma blinks at the stack. “Wait. _I’m_ recruiting?"

“You’re the one spending most of your time in the shop so I figured you should at least have some say in who gets picked.” Kenma wants to protest that this is _too_  much of a say, if he could truly have it his way there’d be no extra staff at all — but Ukai is already turning around to head straight for the door with a hand in the air in a gesture of a farewell. "Might as well get it out of your hair sooner than later. Good luck."

That evening, Kenma makes sure to ‘accidentally drop’ half of the pile into the trash can.

 

-

 

Kenma's stealthy efforts to minimise interest has gone to waste, because an applicant shows up no later than a couple of days after he has painstakingly gone around pasting the recruitment posters on the windows of the store. He reasons that the store has established its existence in the area anyway — there really is no need for him to go to extravagant measures to let the entire neighbourhood know about a part-time slot for highschoolers. If there is genuine interest then there will be applicants; which, in this case, proves to be true.

The aforementioned applicant — Kuroo Tetsurou —  is an eye-catcher, for few reasons other than his feline-like features. At least to Kenma anyway. Thinking this, he almost laughs to himself; how fitting that a cat is potentially being hired to take care of cats. And other animals. Kuroo is much taller than Kenma, and strides into the store with all the confidence of a successful businessman. It’s hard not be intimidated by the strong aura he exudes that Kenma questions for the second time if the ‘interview’ lined up is truly necessary or is just required as a formality. Despite his menacing vibe, Kuroo’s got lazy-looking guys complete with a sleepy gaze, paired aptly with a head unruly dark hair — characteristics that force Kenma to query his competency. Based on social codes, he knows it’s impolite and frowned upon to judge people solely on first impressions, but he can’t help it. After all, he is certainly not up for some freeloader getting pay off of half-assed effort. Kenma might be lazy, but he gets the job done efficiently and that’s all the justification he needs. 

It’s slightly irking to find that Kuroo answers every single question eloquently, with a cocksure, confident grin tacked on at the end of his sentences. He doesn’t even complain when Kenma dumps all the housekeeping duties on him, practically barring access to animals.

“Do you really like animals?” Kenma tries to ask at one point, but the unexpected arrival of a customer cuts him off short, so he doesn’t really get a chance to hear his response.

Call Kenma a cynic, but despite (or perhaps in spite of) Kuroo's apparent easy-going attitude he is still unable to warm up to the boy, especially when his personal free time is in peril. He decides to cut the torture off short by hiring the sole applicant on the spot. 

 

-

 

Kenma decides that there’s something unsettling about the type of confidence Kuroo manifests. At first Kenma finds it irritating, but as their ‘quick tour’ rapidly turns into a Q&A session Kenma realises that it downright pisses him off. Especially when he’s got his standard sideways smirk on. It seems almost condescending, the way he near- _waltzes_  around the place like he owns it, only nodding in understanding when Kenma tries to explain to him the different types of catnip and bird feed in the store room, just in case Kenma isn’t around to keep the animals fed for any reason. He’s been merciful enough to leave the more complicated feeding lessons for another time, but Kenma is now tempted to dump every information possible on Kuroo just to see his face absent of his supercilious smirk.

“Let’s move on, shall we?” Kuroo asks, though it sounds a little more like goading in Kenma’s ears. Kenma can practically feel the hairs on his nape stand up in vexation. 

He clears his throat quietly. Taking one last look around, Kenma gestures around him with a hint of of finality. “Everything else is pretty self-explanatory, I guess. Nothing much ever goes on around here. That’s why I’ve got this,” he fishes his gadget out of his pocket and shakes it a little as a hint, “To keep me busy."

Kenma hopes Kuroo is not as dense as he is confident because he’s not up to the task of spelling out his thoughts to a stranger. 

 

-

 

“So… what do you have to do in this game, exactly?” Kuroo asks for the fifth time that day, and Kenma has to let out a loud sigh through his nose at the sound of another interruption.

Maybe he’s not dense. Maybe Kuroo is doing this with the wholehearted intention to drive Kenma mad.

“This is still the _same game_ ,” Kenma replies slowly, feeling his patience being worn thin. “And I’ve explained the rules clearly to you this morning."

“Ah, _that_ game. Mind if I try it out?” 

The level ends with Kenma’s victory, thus interrupting his intention to tell Kuroo that yes, he indeed does mind. While small characters dance on the screen indicating this he casts a furtive glance around the room to peer at the clock, praying to the heavens that it’s pointing somewhere close to 6. Much to his disappointment, it is barely past 2 o’clock.

“Maybe later.”

Kenma can’t tell if the low chuckle Kuroo emits is one of amusement or condescendence. “Don’t think I won’t take you up on that."

“Sure,” Kenma shrugs with eyes still glued to the screen. This isn’t the first time people have bugged him during what should be an intense session of gaming. The few friends he has made through after-school activities constantly pester him to let them have a go on his console for vastly different reasons — usually they’re just curious first-timers, but a select few argue that Kenma has unlocked more of the higher levels that have taken them too long a time to solve, and many attempt to guilt-trip him into surrendering his device. After years of practice, Kenma’s gotten pretty good at ignoring people until they’re forced to give up their pleading. 

For some reason, however, it’s practically impossible to turn a deaf ear to Kuroo’s attempts at initiating conversations.

“Should I call you Kozume or Kenma? You never specified,” asks Kuroo not a minute later — a question Kenma feels is a tad bit overdue. 

“Kenma is fine."

“Cool. Call me Kuroo then."

“Mhm.” 

“Kinda quiet around here, huh?” The lilt of expectance in his voice is unmistakable, but Kenma is trying very hard not to please his co-worker with any semblance of acknowledgement. After a few more seconds of silence, he continues, “Doesn’t that worry you?"

"I told you earlier. It’s usually like this anyway,” Kenma murmurs, to which Kuroo hums in thought.

“Then wouldn’t it be good to hype the store up? To get the public interested again and all, you know?"

Behind his flashing screen, Kenma makes a face. “Why would you do that?"

“Why not?"

Kenma is about to sigh again but restrains himself from doing do lest he collapses of asphyxiation due to lung over-exertion, or something. “Too much work. Not like we’d get a raise, anyway.”

At least that’s what Kenma thinks. Ukai has mentioned that it’s very unlikely for the pay of a part-timer to be raised, and that he thinks he’s actually giving Kenma the maximum a ‘high school kid’ should make. Of course, Kenma has never found this arrangement flawed, considering the flexibility of the job and the liberty he’s been granted. He knows, from snatches of conversations in class, that other part-time jobs are much more physically demanding and often require employees to deal with irritable customers. It makes him all the more grateful for his selfless companions that behave so well he’s able to go on whimsical trips to the grocery store next door during his shifts.

“Ah, so you’re here for the cash then?” To this, Kenma simply shrugs, unwilling to concede his primary reason for loving his job. Money plays only a small part of it, but he’s not in the mood for a heartfelt conversation anytime soon. Kuroo continues, “I don’t really care about the pay. And you know, hyping this place up won’t be too much work; we've got _loads_ of time. And looking at you,” Kuroo narrows his eyes and scrunches up his nose, "you really do need the exercise."

The statement is delivered with a tone jovial enough for it to pass off as a joke, but Kenma is unsure whether he should take it as such. Frowning, he turns his console irately, finally looking up at his (unfortunately) very human companion.

“Do you need something?" 

“Why do you think that?” 

“You’ve neglected your work for some time now."

Peering around the room in exaggerated movements, Kuroo half-grins at the shorter boy — another fact Kenma is not entirely pleased with. It’s a little difficult to command someone you can only talk to when you’ve got to tip your chin back just to look into their eyes. 

“This place is spick and span! Come on, give me a break."

Kenma rolls his eyes as he feels an additional weight thrusting itself onto what small space is left on the cramped couch behind the cash register. He has to scoot away to avoid as much bodily contact as possible, but even that fails as Kuroo’s got his side snugly pressed against Kenma’s. Without the distraction of his game console’s screen, Kenma notes how slight his frame looks next to Kuroo’s broad, almost intimidatingly robust body. His thigh is pathetically spindly next to Kuroo’s muscular ones, his arms even paler and gangly. The position must have been uncomfortable for both of them, because Kuroo shifts again and Kenma gets a whiff of something sweet and tangy — probably Kuroo’s cologne, though he doesn’t inquire. A broad hand prods at Kenma’s upper arm with its palm up.

“Hand it over."

“What?"

“You said I could try the game right? This is the perfect time for it."

Kenma grumbles, “Didn’t think you’d take up on the offer so soon."

With a tint of self-satisfaction, Kuroo snickers. “Don’t worry, I’ve tried this before. Though the last time I’ve handled something like this, I kind of knocked it out of my friend’s hand and ended up smashing it to bits. Man, _that_ really set my friend off — he’s usually the chill type, too —" 

He doesn’t get to hear the end of the sentence because Kenma abruptly gets up, an irritated pulse throbbing on his temple. Without another glance back, he excuses himself and heads straight for the front door. Surely Kuroo can handle the store for five minutes while Kenma gets a drink and peacefully clears another level or two without the risk of his game console getting obliterated.

 

-

 

Even the most peaceful stores need to restock, especially when the year is closing up and it’s fast approaching a holiday season. The store’s bimonthly orders arrive in the morning, packed with animal toys of different colours and sizes, cages, various types of feed and other general necessities such as shampoo, blankets — the lot. If anything, these deliveries represent the lowest points of Kenma’s work-life — he dreads the arrival of the vans, despises having to carry the boxes inside and finds the need to sort them on their assigned shelves awfully tedious. So if there’s one thing that he loves about the new addition to the staff, it would be his ability to dump the obligations on someone else.

Thankfully, Kuroo doesn’t seem to mind, seemingly content to have something that keeps him on his feet. In fact he might have a knack in this sort of skillset, handling the boxes and its contents seamlessly while whistling an unknown merry tune that is so contagious that Kenma can still hear it long after he stops. It’s strange how he doesn’t find this particular quirk aggravating, even rather endearing. But his opinion on Kuroo’s habits doesn’t matter — with his co-worker busy, Kenma thinks he can finally get a moment of reprieve by retreating to his normal routine.

It takes a bit of pacing around the place a few times, feigning a thorough shelf-check of the entire store, to find a spot as far as possible to Kuroo’s current area of focus. He finds a corner behind the cages of fluffy, small-eared rabbits with a vacant spot, where a small pen of kittens that have been let out for some fresh air seem to lie in wait across from him. With the ease of familiarity, Kenma tucks his game console into the pocket of his baggy hoodie and works to find a comfortable sitting position. Soon enough, he’s got one of the fattest rabbits on his lap and two kittens trying to climb up his arms, their little claws digging pleasantly through the material of his hoodie while he rattles on about his life like the diary of a teenage boy in audio format. Since he’s on break and thus spending much of his time away from school and classmates, the monologue naturally starts off with complaints about unfair game levels and missed opportunities. However, the topic quickly veers off in the direction of his recent source of exasperation. 

“Is it even possible to find everything someone says infuriating? But the worst part is it’s just as disturbing when he’s quiet. He looks so… _calculating_  when he doesn’t say anything, like he knows something about me I’ve never told anyone else. How creepy is that,” he murmurs into the rabbit’s soft body, pulling back when the creature starts kicking its hind legs. Stroking the fur on its back, Kenma succeeds in placating it as he continues, “Hmm. I don’t know. Sometimes when I think he’s not all that bad, he open his mouth to say something stupid and the illusion’s gone. Also, I don’t think he’s ever been taught workplace protocols or something. His hair is always a mess. But he’s sorting out the stuff that arrived today, so I guess he’s not that bad —" 

“Are you talking about me?"

Kenma jumps impressively high considering his current position, the violent action knocking the unfortunate rabbit he’s been caressing out of his lap bottom-first onto the floor. While he contritely mutters apologies to the small animal, he levels what he hopes is an intimidating glare at Kuroo still standing behind him who is now looking more amused than anything else.

“What are you doing here?”  

Kuroo raises an eyebrow. “Uh, my job? These pet costumes for Halloween are supposed to be arranged right beside the kittens, if I’m not wrong."

“ _No_ , they should go on the front display since they’re new arrivals."

“So I’m not that bad, huh?” Kuroo swiftly changes the subject with mirth in his voice, words tainted with tell-tale hints of laughter. Instinctively, Kenma curls in on himself as he turns his head away — something he does often when he’s put on the spot. “But I guess I’m not exactly the most favoured either around here."

Fighting to keep the colour in his cheeks down, Kenma snaps, “How much of that did you hear?” 

“Enough to find it funny without being offended, I guess,” he replies easily, untangling the knots in Kenma’s stomach that he never noticed were there in the first place. His facial expression must have shifted substantially, because Kuroo sets off on a short burst of laughter. “No need to look so relieved."

Kenma’s about to retort when Kuroo nudges his side, forcing him to make room in the already cramped corner. 

“Is this something you do often?” There Kuroo goes again — easily squeezing into untenanted spaces near Kenma without his explicit permission, seemingly unable to take a hint or is just obtuse enough to ignore them. And why Kenma puts up with it, he doesn’t know.

He shrugs, eyes flitting away like he’s not sure where he should let them settle. “W-Well, yeah, I guess. Not that often… just sometimes. When no one’s really around."

“Which is pretty much most of the time,” quips Kuroo wittily, and even Kenma can’t help but break his stoic demeanour with a small smile.

“Maybe.” 

“So do you just talk to them? Or give them toys to play with?"

From the corner of his eyes, Kenma sends him a sidelong glance, trying to decipher his words. He detects nothing but genuine curiosity, though, and figures that there might not be any harm in telling.

“The younger puppies and kittens are more excitable than the rest, so they’re the only ones I really play with. The hamsters, rabbits, birds, the older cats; they’re better listeners. It’s easier to just sit and talk to them, even if they don’t understand."

Kuroo beams, and Kenma forgets to be annoyed for a second. “That’s pretty cool."

“You don’t think it’s weird?” Kenma fiddles with the console through his clothes, mindlessly pressing at the inactive buttons. “You know, talking."

“Why would I think it’s weird? Everyone needs an outlet to vent, right?"

“Usually those outlets come in the form of other humans,” Kenma points out.

“Nah. I know what you mean, but hey — sometimes people can be assholes, and these guys are definitely less hassle. If that’s what makes you happy, you know, why overthink it?” It might be a little goosebump-inducing, but strangely Kenma finds solace in Kuroo’s words. “And it totally doesn’t look strange. Watch." 

Unwarranted, Kuroo reaches out to pluck a ginger kitten out of its  to pet its head and coo endearments in the process, only encouraged further whenever he’s rewarded with a small purr or meowing. 

“Hey little dude. I’m kinda new around here, but you’ll be seeing a lot more of me from now on. Call me Kuroo. My arm’s still aching from helping the deliverers move the packages around, but it feels rewarding to be off of my ass for a while…"

Kenma observes the monologue, a little stunned by the effortless way Kuroo makes conversation with an unresponsive partner and his seemingly steady hold of the kitten, even if his fingers do look a little uncomfortable. And Kuroo’s right — it doesn’t look too bizzare; in fact, it’s a little adorable and Kenma unknowingly smiles to himself. His co-worker might be doing this just to make him feel better, but it’s more than anyone has done to him as of late. He’s also not about to get sentimental or cast an awkward spell over both of them, so he simply sits back and relaxes the tension in his shoulders, hoping the gesture can be seen as an act of gratitude.

 

-

 

“We really need to go out,” Kuroo declares one oddly sunny Tuesday morning, and Kenma proceeds to trip over himself and only narrowly avoids spilling tiny fish pellets all over the floor.

Under normal circumstances, Kenma is pretty confident in his ability to keep a level head — but right now, he can’t suppress the leap in his chest at Kuroo’s question followed by dull thudding at the back of his head. He stares incredulously at Kuroo, who’s returning his look with a blank one of his own. 

“W-What?"

“What?” the dark-haired boy retaliates without an edge to his voice, never breaking eye contact with Kenma. 

“Can you repeat what you said?"

Now Kuroo looks more confused than he should. Pointing a thumb at the door, he says, “I said we should go outside? You know, since the weather’s pretty nice today and all."

“Oh. Okay.” Kenma sets the can of pellets down as he breathes out slowly, trying to return his heartbeat to an acceptable pace, ignoring the twinge of disappointment he feels. Jumping to conclusions isn’t normally in his books and he berates himself for the small blunder. Mulling over the question, Kenma considers the offer. “We still have our shifts."

“That’s never stopped you, has it?” At Kenma’s affronted face, Kuroo laughs. “Relax, it’s not a crime to go out and get a snack or two during work, you know. Like you said, nothing much happens around here. Plus, it can’t be all that good to stay cooped up indoors."

“I don’t mind it, though."

“A small change won’t hurt. Come on,” Kuroo’s tone takes on a pleading quality that makes Kenma want to laugh and retch at the same time. “I’ve got something exciting I want to show you."

Jumping over the counter with the stealth of a panther, Kuroo strides over to the opposite end of the store, and it’s only then that Kenma notices the black sports bag leaning against the wall nearest to the entrance looking like someone dumped it there in the morning. Despite having worked with Kuroo for over a week now, Kenma has never seen the bag before, although whether that’s due to his acute inattentiveness to his surroundings or the bag’s absence until today he can’t really tell. He eyes Kuroo, who’s rummaging through its contents now, in mild curiosity. 

When Kuroo produces a blue and yellow volleyball with a flourish, Kenma blinks owlishly. “Volley?"

“Correct! Do you play?" It’s not condescending, the way Kuroo says it, and even his smirk has lost its sly, fox-like edge to it — or maybe it was never there to begin with, but Kenma has a question to answer so he averts his attention to it instead.

“I did, actually. For a while during elementary school and junior high, but I quit."

Kuroo’s usually droopy eyes widen in surprise, like he can’t fathom a reason why anyone would withdraw from the sport. Kenma notes that Kuroo looks more alert like this — different from his usually half-asleep demeanour that makes it seem like he’s in a slightly drunken stupor most of the time. “Quit? Seriously? How come?

Kenma shrugs. “Didn’t see a point in continuing. Not like I can become a national athlete, or anything."

“Did you enjoy it though?" 

“It was… it was alright. I didn’t have the best teammates."

“What were they like?” Kuroo presses, and Kenma hesitates.  

“Nothing strange about them. I just didn’t feel like I fit in most of the time. They all had their own cliques."

There seems to be another invasive question hanging on the edge of Kuroo’s lips, but he ends up changing his mind and steers the conversation in another direction. “What position did you play?"

Kenma shifts in his seat. “Setter. But seriously, I wasn’t very good —"

“Hmm, yeah, I can see that.” Kuroo’s gaze is heavy on him, like he’s analysing Kenma from head to toe. 

Kenma scowls. “See what? How I wasn’t very good?" 

At least Kuroo has the audacity to look embarrassed as he waves his hands hurriedly. “No, no! What I meant was — I meant I could really see you in that position. I know you said you weren’t good, but I don’t think that was the case. I think you fit the role of a setter pretty well."

Now Kenma knows he shouldn’t act like a ten-year-old in conversations concerning his own abilities, but he’s never had very many people take an avid interest in what he does before, so he can’t help but fish a little. “How so?"

“Well, we haven’t spent _that_ much time together so correct me if I’m wrong.” Kuroo seems embarrassed admitting this fact out loud, though he continues. “You’re very perceptive of people — and others, really. It’s pretty amazing how well you can read the moods of the animals around here, and how well you cater to the customers’ needs. That’s a skill, you know. I can tell that you think a lot too, up there,” he taps lightly on Kenma’s forehead. “It’s demonstrated pretty well in those games you play, but your problem-solving abilities are no joke. Are you secretly a genius? Probably the only one who can beat you in that department is me."

At this, Kenma scoffs and shoves a laughing Kuroo in his side harder than usual, but there’s no denying the warm fluttering feeling in his chest and the heat traveling up his neck. The sensation makes his toes curl and his fingers to dig into his palm, and although foreign it is not at all unpleasant. 

“So? Have I won your approval yet?"

Still unable to keep the smile off his face, Kenma rolls his eyes just to put up a small fight. “Fine. Not too long, though."

“Hmm. That depends on how well you play. Or how badly."

Kenma is already on his feet by the time Kuroo is finished, although he does try to put up a reluctant aura. Snatching the keys from the first drawer of the desk and flipping the sign to say _Closed_ , he murmurs, “This better be worth it."

It turns out to be a pleasant experience indeed, the match ending with Kuroo on his back on the ground and Kenma with his palms to his knees, feeling completely shattered but having enough dignity not to relegate himself to sprawling on the ground. Through his haze of exhaustion, Kuroo stubbornly announces a rematch, and Kenma finds the idea so ridiculous he laughs openly, so freely — something he hasn’t done in the presence of someone else in a long time. 

Several rematches and half a dozen water bottles later, they finally decide to head home. They end up riding the train together, almost empty save for a few people. Kuroo’s got his headphones on and Kenma pretends to be occupied by his game, but in reality he’s contemplating the best way of saying ‘thank you’.

In the end, he decides a small squeeze of Kuroo’s hand the boy offers for a high-five is sufficient, if the growing smile on Kuroo’s face is any indication.

 

-

 

Thanks to certain neighbours and their outrageously loud (not to mention horrible taste of) party music, Kenma only managed a meagre 2 hour shuteye the previous night, leading to him running late. Halloween is exciting and all — not to mention the double pay he receives for overtime — but he wishes for the umpteenth time that he has the means to  live in blissful seclusion. It’s impossible to put a stop to the parties and no one is in any position to do so, not really, but he considers convincing his parents to splurge a little on soundproofed walls. He turns the idea over in his head, so lost in thoughts of trite concerns and banal matters that he nearly forgets he’s got a shift to fill. He’s about to push the glass doors open when a sight stops him short in his tracks.

A mop of black, untamed hair peeks out from between the cages, and as he rounds the corner Kenma can see a kitten sitting in Kuroo’s arms. Technically, their initial agreement is still in place; but something stops him from scolding the taller boy and reminding him of their agreed ‘positions’ that prevent Kuroo from getting involved with the animals at all. 

The kitten with black splotches on its fur looks perfectly content in his arms, eyes scrunched up in a pleased expression. Kenma can almost hear its soft purrs as it rubs its head on Kuroo’s chest. The tall man crouches down, gingerly placing the kitten back on the ground to pick up another one that’s been pawing at his foot, practically begging for attention. This time he sits cross-legged amongst the cages, stroking between the kitten’s ears and murmuring endearments. Kenma is so engrossed by the sight — is it possible for Kuroo to be handling these animals with such gentleness? Of his own accord, and not because he was trying to call a truce with his co-worker? He’s seen what that boy can do with a volleyball, and it takes all his power to try and understand how the delicate creatures haven’t been crushed to smithereens yet.

It’s definitely hallucination. Kenma _is_ sleep-deprived after all. And then his eyes travel up to Kuroo’s face, and his heart nearly leaps out of his chest when he sees the tenderness and undivided affection in his eyes. It makes Kenma’s chest constrict a little painfully, though for what reason Kenma can’t comprehend.

What he does know, though, is that he should probably amend a few things with his co-worker.

 

-

 

“You can help me take care of the animals now. If you want to, I mean."

As soon as the words leave Kenma’s mouth, Kuroo is scrambling out of his chair to brace his hands on the table in front of Kenma, staring at him open-mouthed like he's just admitted to looting an entire bank.

“What? Really?"

Kenma shrugs nonchalantly, although his heart starts to race. It’s definite; his body is positively malfunctioning. “Yeah. Sure. Maybe you can even…” Kenma clears his throat as a futile distraction. “Those promotional posters and offers you were talking about. Maybe we can make those, too?"

Quite abruptly, a palm smothers Kenma’s upper face in all its warm and slightly sweaty glory. Kenma swats at it as his heartbeat picks up pace, but Kuroo keeps it there for a few more seconds. “Hey. Are you feeling okay? 

“I’m fine, now leave my face alone."

“Why the change of mind?" 

Looking away to avert Kuroo’s unrelenting gaze again, Kenma says, “Nothing. Guess this place needs a change, too."

It’s a terrible lie, and Kenma knows Kuroo doesn’t buy it one bit. Yet he doesn’t pry, only grins from ear to ear and slings an arm around Kenma’s slight shoulders in an attempt to nudge at him playfully. The sudden shove may have hurt his ribs more than Kenma would like, but it doesn’t quell the tingling feeling in his chest and stomach.

“Sounds good to me. I’ll use the privilege wisely."

“Will you really?” Kenma asks, but the question is an unnecessary one. Kenma already knows the answer, anyway.

 

-

 

Something strange is happening in the pet store.

What used to be a slow start to the morning is now replaced with Kenma greeting small groups of customers immediately after the shop opens, every greeting is returned with enthusiastic questions about the animals — who are just as enthusiastic to receive the attention as shown by their curious looks and excited skittishness. Children wander in and out, often content with simply stroking the fur of one of the calmer puppies or playing with the excitable ones. Many people of all ages, however, do end up walking through the doors with a new companion in hand — or on a leash — and a smile on their face.

Kenma himself has been pleasantly busy. Contrary to what he might have thought beforehand, being away from the buttons and bright screen of his games is not a bad alteration to his routine at all, and the lack of idle time has made him significantly less moody. He still somehow manages to sneak in some alone time with the smaller animals after they close up now that he doesn’t have to do it behind Kuroo’s back. As time wears on it becomes apparent how considerate Kuroo is even without Kenma having to explicitly bare his feelings out to him, which is something he’s still not comfortable with doing most of the time. The other boy knows how much Kenma values his private time, and never fails to give him the space he needs.

Kenma hates being proved wrong, hence his reluctance to openly admit the success of Kuroo’s subtle advertising campaign, or whatever he’s done to attract the neighbourhood’s attention. Whether it be his insistence of actually posting posters up _everywhere_ they can reach by walking distance, his determination to deliver the best customer service or his persistence to decorate the store appropriate to any approaching holiday season — they've worked. And apparently the both of them are not the only people enjoying it, because Ukai gives the part-timers a call two weeks before New Year’s Eve informing them of a ‘small reward’.

 

-

 

Said reward turns out to not be all that small, because upon seeing the numbers on his paycheck, Kuroo immediately grabs Kenma’s wrist in a gentle but urgent manner and invites him out for dinner. 

Kenma turns him down just as quick, earning a crestfallen expression in return.

“No,” he says again, voice assertive, but his heart thuds at what he’s about to say next. “Look. My parents are out of town for a few days, and said I can invite anyone over. So why don’t… we just. Have dinner at my house?” At Kuroo’s obvious surprise, he quickly adds, “We can order something to be delivered and get snacks from the grocery store if you don’t want to cook. Anything. It’s just kind of weird. Eating at a fancy restaurant, or whatever."

“So Kenma likes familiar, huh,” Kuroo grins, throwing an arm around Kenma’s shoulders casually enough to not make him uncomfortable, but intimate enough to know that something has changed between them — they’re not two strangers trying to figure each other out by dancing between lines anymore. They’re close friends, and perhaps they’ll be something more soon. 

“Yeah, sure,” Kenma grips the hem of Kuroo’s sweater as he leans back, taking in Kuroo’s pleased face. “But don’t you dare do anything stupid at my house."

The vibrations of Kuroo’s laughter reaches Kenma’s fingertips, sending them tingling in the most pleasant way. “Me? Of course I wouldn’t, you can trust me on that."

And Kenma does. Really does.

 

 


End file.
